No Common Allegiance: The Red Line Blues
by dHALL
Summary: Part one of three. An earthquake.A derailed subway car.Six young gang members,a gun and a claustrophobic math professor.Looks like he picked the wrong day to conquer an irrational fear. SERIES COMPLETED!
1. This will be a piece of cake

**No Common Allegiance: The Red Line Blues **

**By dHALL**

**A little earthquake. A de-railed subway car. Six young gang members, a gun and a claustrophobic math professor. **

**Looks like he picked the wrong day to conquer an irrational fear.**

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**I know, I know….I don't own them and never, ever will I make any money whatsoever at the expense of these divine**

characters who have offered me countless hours of entertainment.

**Also -a special thanks to thebondgirl for her advice on this one!**

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**Chapter One: This will be a piece of cake **

"Come on Buddy. Let me come pick you up, I can be there in forty minutes."

Charlie Eppes was standing just inside the almost vacant entrance to the North Hollywood platform for the Red Line of the Los Angeles County Metro Rail. He was holding his cell phone so tightly to his ear that his knuckles were white. His palms were sweating and for the past twenty minutes, he hadn't moved an inch. His heart rate was rapid and his mouth had turned to cotton, but breathing was starting to get a little easier.

"Charlie, did you hear me? I'll come and get you, ok?"

There was a note of concern in his brother's voice that Charlie hadn't heard in a very long time.

He'd been fighting off a panic attack since he stepped thru the turnstile and onto the platform and when Don called; it took Charlie a good five minutes to explain where he was and what he was trying to do.

"Charlie? You don't have to do this. You don't need to prove anything."

_Yes I do. I can beat this._

Charlie did his best to steady his voice before answering his brother.

"No….Don. I….I told you I…I'm going to take the subway and that's what I'm going to do. Larry had an emergency and had to leave early and I'm…..not…I won't ask you to drive all the way up to North Hollywood at eleven thirty on a Friday night."

"Charlie, as you just pointed out, it's eleven thirty on a Friday night! That alone is reason enough for me to come get you."

"I appreciate the offer Don, really I, ...I do, but it's ok. I can handle it. It's a thirty minute ride on a subway car. I'll be fine."

"Ok, I just figured that……."

"Don. I'll be fine….I've been on the metro rail before. That didn't go so badly did it?"

"It didn't go at all Charlie. You never got on the thing remember? You stood on the platform for an hour and then you finally called me to come pick you up. When I got you home, you locked yourself in the solarium for two days!"

"Well,…that was a long time ago."

"It was last April, Charlie."

"It…that's not important, Don. Besides, I can ride elevators now without a problem. I couldn't do that a year ago. So I think I should be able to handle a short ride on the subway."

"Ok…If that's what you want Buddy, I'll leave you alone."

Again, he could hear an unfamiliar tone of worry in his older brother's voice and he made up his mind. _I can do this. I am going to show him that I can conquer this._

"Yeah,that's..." He had to stop and swallow. "That's what I want."

"Well………….you know the number…if you need me."

"Yeah Don. I know the number……and Don?

"Yeah, Charlie?"

"Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for."

Charlie was about to close his phone when Don continued.

"Hey, Buddy? I'm already downtown. Do you want me to just pick you up at Union Station? Or would you rather take the Gold Line all the way to Memorial Park?"

Don was delicately trying to give him a way out of having to take the metro all the way to Pasadena and Charlie couldn't help but smile at his brother over the phone.

"_If_ you were planning on going that way and _if_ it wouldn't be a terrible inconvenience. Sure, Union Station would be good."

"OK, I'll see ya in a half an hour then." Don paused."Well,should I bring an oxygen mask….just in case?"

Charlie could picture his brother's droll smile and he had to bite back a laugh in spite of his rattled nerves.

"You're not funny. You know that, right?"

Charlie slammed his cell phone shut before Don could answer. Taking a deep breath, he bit his lip and walked across the platform and onto the seventy five foot passenger car at the end of train. He only had to make it to Union Station, not all the way to Pasadena, nothing a reasonable, logical mathematician couldn't handle.

Authors Notes: As always I'd love your reviews!

Chapter Two: Don't forget to breathe.


	2. Don't forget to breathe

**Chapter Two: Don't forget to breathe.**

Charlie looked around the brightly lit metro train. The last passengers of the night were getting settled inside the two separate cars. At one end of his car, a group of teenage boys had clustered together and all the way on the other end two young couples were sitting. Both sets were overly enamored with their partners and paying no attention to the other passengers. He could see a few other people scattered in the other attached car. Charlie decided on a seat right in the middle. Statistically that was the best place to be if there was an accident, or….._SHUT UP! Why would you think that way? _He answered himself. _Well, it's true isn't it?_

The doors to the car slid shut and the metro started to move. Charlie could feel his heart rate increasing again. He dug his fingers into his knees and concentrated on his breathing. _Calm down Charlie. If you can't even make it to Union Station, Don will never let you live it down. Breathe. You are not going to freak out. You can do this. Just think about something else. Keep it simple. Don't get lost in it. Prime numbers…..ok, let's do that. Two, Three, Five, Seven, Eleven, Thirteen, Seventeen, Nineteen, Twenty Three, Twenty Nine………_

He had made it to seventy four thousand seventy seven when a pair of bright red basketball shoes walked directly in front of him and stopped.

"Hey?"

A young Latino man from the group at the end of the car was standing in front of him.

"Hey, Ese Vato, you got a cigarette?"

Charlie had to blink a few times to clear his thoughts so he could verbally answer the question. He shook his head.

"No…No, I'm sorry. I don't smoke."

The kid shrugged his shoulders and walked back over to where the others where gathered. Charlie forced himself to look up and again inventoried the other occupants of the car. The two couples had left. They must have gotten out at the last stop. Just him and six teenage boys were left on the car. _What if I miss my stop? What if I get stuck on here? _Again he answered himself. _This line stops at Union Station dumb ass. You'll know when you get there. Still breathing……Seven thousand four hundred eighty one, Seven thousand four hundred eighty seven….good staying calm. Seven thousand…"_

"Hey!"

Another kid, slightly older than the last had moved to the middle of the car.

"Are you sure you ain't got a cigarette? Or a blunt? Or something?"

Charlie lifted his head and realized the whole group of young men had congregated around his selected space in the center of the car. Any progress he had made in slowing his heart rate was quickly lost when he realized all six of these young men were wearing the distinct colors of a west L.A. gang. _Oh crap. Stay calm. You're an adult, act like one._

"No. No. I um, I don't smoke….anything. I don't have anything."

Two of them sat down next to him, one on either side.

"What if we don't believe you?"

"I'm sorry…but I…..Honestly guys, I don't. Actually only twenty four point one percent of the adult male population smokes. Statistically, you only had less than a one in four chance that I would be smoker. If you want to increase your odds of actually finding a cigarette, you need a larger sample to choose from. One in four isn't great odds and if you increased the number of people in the room, your chances of……………."

Charlie stopped speaking and sucked in a deep breath. _I said act like an adult you idiot, not a college professor. _The other voice answered. _But I am a college professor_.

Charlie wanted to kick himself. The six young gang members were staring at him like he had four heads. None of them looked ready to admit that they hadn't understood, but their eyes contained that blank look that his students got when they really had no idea what he was talking about.

"So…no, I um, I don't have a cigarette."

The kid on his right turned and gave him a perplexed look.

"You are seriously loco man."

Charlie swallowed hard.

"You have no idea."

The young man on his left stood and looking cynical addressed the group.

"Ok. Ok. If this guys so smart, then let's go check out the next car. There are more than four people in there. If our new friend here is right, one of them will have a cigarette. Isn't that right smart guy?" He looked at Charlie; his pride at having at least partially understood what had been said was visible under his sarcasm.

After a moment's hesitation, Charlie nodded his head cautiously.

"Statistically speaking, yes, there is a higher probability that a group of four or more would have a smoker among them. But there are a lot of factors to consider and you can't just…."

He gave Charlie an amused grin.

"I say we test the theory then."

An undercurrent of hostility in the teen's voice kept him from returning the smile.

"It's not so much a theory….it's more a matter of statistical probability. But quantity is only one variable."

"Right. Ok then. I guess we'll see, won't we?"

The young man headed thru the doors and into the next compartment, followed closely by his posse. Charlie leaned his head back and exhaled loudly. Ok, maybe the fact that it was a Friday night should have been reason enough to have had Don drive all the way to North Hollywood.

Charlie felt the train slow as they approached the MacArthur Park stop. Three more stops to Union Station_. Almost there. Less than ten minutes left to endure. _He glanced around him again. He was alone in the last car now. He could see several people unloading from the front of the train. _I could walk the rest of the way to Union Station. I shouldn't stay on here, not after that. Don't be stupid Charlie. No one is going to hurt you in here. You have a better chance of getting mugged on the street than being assaulted on the L.A. Metro. They have security cameras on these things. _He stayed in his seat watching people get off the last car. Hoping those young men were among the exiting passengers, Charlie leaned back and tried to relax his shoulders.

The doors closed again and the train picked up speed for the last leg of its journey. Don would be waiting when he got there and then he could go home and forget all about this. _Seven Thousand Four Hundred Eighty Nine, Seven Thousand Four Hundred Ninety Nine…_

The door to the second car opened and the group of teenagers filed back into the compartment. _That's just great. Here we go again_.

"Hey. You were totally on the money man. Dude gave us his whole pack before he got off at the last stop."

Charlie looked up apprehensively. _What do these guys want? _Despite the anxiety that was trying to consume him, Charlie couldn't help but notice that the hostility he had heard in the young instigators voice was gone and in its place was something that almost sounded like awe or maybe even admiration. The rest of the group seemed to follow that ones lead, so maybe he'd make it to Union Station in one piece. He mustered up a thin smile and nodded. "Good. That's good. So I was right then?"

"Yeah. How'd you know that stuff with all those numbers?"

Charlie eyed the group around him.

"I um….I have a propensity for remembering numbers."

One of the boys leaned against the center pole in the car.

"Yeah. OK. But how'd you know what to do with 'em."

"That's…..that's what I do. I…..um, I teach applied mathematics…….at the university."

The leader sat down across from him on the other side of the car.

"So you salty or what?"

"Excuse me?"

The kid standing next to him grinned.

"He wants to know if you're one of those guys who thinks he knows everything."

Charlie shook his head quickly in denial.

"No…no. Not everything. You can never know everything."

"Good answer. You are a smart guy."

The leader leaned back on the bench and lit a cigarette giving Charlie a half smile.

The metro flew past the Civic Center Station without stopping and Charlie made a mental note. _Two miles to go at 60 miles an hour. Almost there_.

"Chill, Math Man. It's all good."

Charlie watched the group that surrounded him. He almost opened his mouth to tell them that smoking wasn't allowed on the metro, but quickly stopped himself. _Yeah, that would be pretty smooth professor._ The six young gangsters passed the pack of cigarettes and a lighter around, the one on Charlie's left handed him the pack.

"Oh. No really guys, no thanks. I...I don't smoke."

The guy in with the red shoes stood and walked in front of him to retrieve the pack of cigarettes.

"It's never too late to start, man. It's a great stress reliever. And you do look a little stressed."

A couple of the boys laughed and Charlie forced a smile, trying to decide if he needed to respond.

Suddenly the subway car lurched with a violent jolt, knocking him off the bench. The two young men that were standing lost their footing and joined him on the floor. What started as a deep rumble escalated into a loud roar and the subway car continued to sway. Its own velocity combined with the awkward movements of the shifting earth, was more than the two car train could handle and the first car jumped the tracks. The derailment sent the seven passengers of the metro car sliding across the floor and slamming painfully into the benches and support bars as the first car acted as a braking mechanism. Power was cut and the lights went out, while the train continued to slide along the tracks, sending up showers of sparks from the third rail as it lost it's momentum. By the time the subway cars came to a halt, the earth had stopped shaking and everything was still, including the seven passengers.

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Authors Notes: Thanks for your comments! I thought I would let you know straight away - No Common Allegiance is a series.

The Red Line Blues is only part one. An intro, if you will, to angst city. (I just figured you'd like to know that.)

Chapter Three: Pardon me while I panic.


	3. Pardon me while I panic

**Chapter Three: Pardon me while I panic**

There was no motion from inside the derailed subway train. Charlie blinked his eyes a few times in the dark that filled the car. He tried to clear his head, but the spinning sensation combined with the pitch black that surrounded him made it hard to focus. _I feel like a cartoon character with little birdies flying around my head. _The mental image almost made him laugh, but then his stomach started to churn. He hesitated before he moved, out of fear that he might not be able to do so without being sick. Pain radiated down his back and he felt as if someone had hit him in the head with a baseball bat. Their sudden deceleration had thrown him down the center of the car and he had collided quite forcefully with one of the support bars. The remaining momentum and the slide down the tracks had slung him under one of the benches. Taking silent inventory of all his limbs, Charlie pulled himself out from under the seat and sat up on the floor not quite comprehending what had just happened.

Somewhere between the cars, there was a loud pop as an electrical surge sent up a shower of sparks out on the tracks. The lights flickered on as the emergency battery kicked in.

"What the hell was that?"

"Holy shit! Was that an earthquake?"

"The tunnel didn't collapse did it?"

As the other six passengers pulled themselves up off the floor and took in their surroundings, their comments became more subdued.

The leader of the group looked over his crew.

"You guys ok?"

The boys glanced around at each other, each one nodding at their leader in turn. The youngest boy's eyes rested on Charlie before he answered. "I'm ok, but that guy's bleeding."

Charlie reached up and gingerly touched the side of his head where a low throb had developed. He could feel the wetness seeping through his hair as a trickle started to run down the side of his face. He pulled his hand back and looked at the bright red blood that was oozing from his head. His blood.

Charlie felt his head start swimming.

The youngest boy spoke again.

"He's lookin' pretty pale."

"Doesn't someone need to put pressure on it?"

The kid in the red basketball shoes was talking now.

"You know, so he don't bleed to death or something?"

One of the young men threw abandana at him.

The object landing in his lap snapped Charlie out of his daze and he picked up the bandana and pressed it against the bleeding gash on the side of head.

One of the kids pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

"There's no signal down here. What do we do now?"

The leader looked around at the walls.

"Isn't there an intercom or something?"

"I don't see one."

"Well, maybe it's in the other car?"

"They all got off at the last stop, there's nobody in there."

"Well, let's get this door open."

He started to struggle with the door that separated the two train compartments.

Trying to get a wedge between the sliding doors proved impossible and without power to operate the hydraulics, the door wouldn't budge.

Charlie leaned back against the bench and watched the procedure with building panic.

Several of the other boys took turns trying the door that connected the cars, but with no luck. They shifted their attention to the outside doors. "These won't move either."

Calling out to their leader, one of the younger men put into words what Charlie had been trying not to consider. "I think we may be stuck in here."

Charlie's thoughts turned inward and he squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the voices that surrounded him. _We just had an earthquake. I'm bleeding and I'm stuck on a subway car. _His already elevated heart rate increased and Charlie could feel his throat tightening. It became more difficult to breathe as the irrational fear that he had fought with his whole life reached out from the abyss and threatened to pull him down. He found himself gulping air, unable to exhale. Rationality and control deserted him and Charlie allowed himself to be immersed in a complete panic attack. _I can't breathe. I'm going to die. No, you are not, you idiot, you're hyperventilating. _

_But you are going to pass out. _

He could hear a voice as if someone were talking to him thru a long tunnel, but he couldn't make out the words. He felt the world closing in and everything faded to gray. Someone was trying to put something over his face. _I'm being suffocated to death in a buried subway car. No, Charlie. It's a paper bag. You're hyperventilating remember? _

Opening his eyes, Charlie realized he was sitting awkwardly on the floor. He tried to look up, but someone was holding something tight against the bleeding gash on his head and a strong hand between his shoulder blades kept him where he was.

"Dude, you gotta keep your head between your knees. My cousin used to do this all the time. You just gotta breathe slower that's all."

Charlie knew the drill. It had been a few years, but he had been through it a hundred times. He took the bag from the kid kneeling next to him. It was a wadded up fast food bag and the smell of french-fries was nauseating, but he put the bag over his face anyway. _Breathing now. God Charlie, you've got to get a grip. Breathe, slower…slower. One, One, Two, Three, Five, Eight, Thirteen, Twenty one, Thirty four….._

Charlie started muttering the Fibonacci numbers. For several minutes there was no sound in the car except for Charlie breathing into the paper bag and the string of numbers he couldn't stop himself from reciting between each breath. Finally one of the young men broke through his number-induced trance.

"Man, what the hell happened to you? You totally spazed."

Charlie lifted his head slightly, swallowed and tried to speak. "Claustrophobia."

The response was as logical as anything Charlie had ever heard.

"Then what the hell are you doing on a Los Angeles Metro train?"

Charlie shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How we doing?"

The leader of the gang was sitting across the car with his arms crossed, staring at the huddle on the floor.

The kid in front of Charlie stood and turned to face him. "Better, I think. At least he's making sense now and I think his head stopped bleeding."

"Well good. 'Cause we still can't get the doors opened and the emergency window exits don't work, so its looking like we get to wait for somebody to come get us out."

Charlie felt dazed as he glanced around the car. All six of the young men stared at him as if they were looking at an oddity in nature that they couldn't quite understand. The leader of the group sat down on the bench next to where Charlie was sprawled on the floor and gave him an uncomfortable stare. "Man…You're gonna have to not do that again. The bleeding thing is bad enough. But whatever the hell it was you just did….I don't know shit about that, I don't deal with wigging out."

Charlie looked cautiously at the young man, the oldest and the obvious leader, he was trying to wear a brave face. But the solid intimidation he had radiated earlier on the train had faded ever so slightly and in its place he could almost see an uncertain teenager who didn't know what to do next. The derailment had knocked all of them around the cabin and everybody had their share of scrapes and bruises. The other five young men took seats all around the car and were making an effort not to look as scared as they were.

Trying to shrug off the shock that was fogging up his brain after its impact with the bench wasn't proving to be such an easy task. After a few moments of silent meditation, Charlie managed to steady his voice enough to speak.

"I…I think I'm done with the whole wigging out thing. But I really can't make any promises."

He put his hand out and tried to sound confident. "I'm Charlie."

The young man looked slightly perplexed by this friendly gesture, but took his hand and gave it a shake. "Marcus**."**

"Well, Marcus." Charlie pulled himself up and fought to stay steady on his feet.

"Sorry about all that. I…..I've never been good with small, super enclosed spaces and then the blood thing….I guess I just picked the wrong day to try out the Metro."

Marcus gave him a slightly nervous laugh.

"You're not kidding. Jeez man. I wish we'd gotten off at the park."

The pounding in Charlie's head amplified and he found himself unable to continue standing and lowered himself to the bench.

One of the boys, the youngest of the group by at least four years, sat down on the bench next to Marcus. "Hey Marc….we gotta get out of here. What if the tunnel collapses?" The boy was trying not to whine, but the fear in his voice was hard to miss.

Charlie tried to swallow his own anxiety and scrolled thru the facts he had cataloged in his mind about the Los Angeles Metro system.

"This tunnel was built to stand up to a seven point five magnitude quake. I don't think we even came close to that level. A quake as low as a four-point-o can derail a train. But I really don't think we are in any danger of the tunnel collapsing after a single seismic event."

The boy looked skeptical.

"How do you know that?"

"My father was a city planner. That's the kind of stuff we talked about at the dinner table when I was a kid. And this tunnel has already survived one significant quake back in ninety four with no damage at all."

Marcus gave the younger teen a reassuring smile.

"See, this guy knows what he's talking about."

He turned to Charlie. "This is my little brother Frankie. He hangs with us sometimes. You gotta look out for your brother…...ya know?"

The younger boy grinned.

"That's right bro….I gotcha back."

One of the others addressed their leader. "How long do you think this is gonna take? I mean, for someone to come get us out of here?"

When Marcus spoke to this young man, his voice had picked up its previous tone. A compelling mixture of sarcasm and superiority made it very clear that he was in charge and was used to being that way. He sounded self-assured when he gave his answer. "It won't take long. We're maybe a half a mile from Union Station. It doesn't take that much time to walk a half a mile." Then he turned to Charlie. "Isn't that right Math Man? How long does it take a rescue team to walk a half a mile?"

_Well, if he wants to be that way. I'm not going to sit here and be intimidated by six kids. I teach college students for God's sake. Grow a spine Eppes. _Charlie leaned forward in his seat to muster up his courage and started speaking as animatedly as he could.

"Well, Marcus, optimization of speed depends on the leg dynamics of each member of the team. Parabolic foot velocity profiles can give us a fairly accurate idea of the pace that each walker can maintain. Since there are so many other variables, it would take an intricately designed algorithm to give us a second by second arrival time for each individual, but if we use Fuzzy Logic Theory we should be able to pinpoint it down to the minute anyway."

All six of the boys were staring at Charlie with their mouths hanging open. Marcus narrowed his eyes at him. "I really have no idea what the hell you just said, man."

"Yes, I know." Charlie forced himself to meet Marcus's eyes, trying not to sound the least bit intimidated. "But that was more fun than just saying eleven minutes."

Before Marcus could respond to his deliberate sarcasm, Frankie walked in front of Charlie. "So by using all that stuff you just said you can tell us that it'll only take 'em eleven minutes to get from Union Station to us?"

Charlie glanced around at the others. With the exception of Marcus, they were all waiting for his answer. "No. I just know that the average human foot speed is four feet per second. Since a half a mile consists of two thousand, six hundred, forty feet that gives us a foot-rate travel time of six hundred sixty seconds. Or eleven minutes."

"Damn. You are good." Marcus leaned forward in his seat his voice dripping with contempt.

"That part's just basic math. Anybody can do it."

Marcus opened his mouth to intercede, but Charlie continued, his attention focused on the others.

"Even though the trek to our location will only take a sixth of an hour, organization and preparation will take considerably longer. Even with emergency response plans in place, we may be waiting for several hours before anyone makes it down to us and………..."

Charlie stopped cold, shocked by the facts of his own statement. _Several hours. Oh God, I can't stay here several hours. _He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. Someone reached out and slapped the wadded up paper bag back into his hand. "No, I'm ok."

The car stayed silent until Charlie opened his eyes again. Four of the boys were standing at the end of the row of seats while Frankie sat on the bench next to him. Marcus was leaning over the seat on their left. His voice still held its superior air, but his eyes looked almost frightened. "Don't pull that shit man. You gotta get a grip. What am I supposed to do if you stop breathing or something?"

Charlie shook his head and took several deep breathes exhaling fully with each one.

"I won't. Hyperventilation causes the carbon dioxide level in the blood to decrease. That reduces blood flow to the brain. But I won't stop breathing. I'll just pass out. Once that happens, I'll start breathing normally again."

"Do you do this often?"

Frankie laughed out loud at his brother's comment and Charlie tried not to look embarrassed. "Not usually, no. I try to avoid anything that might trigger that kind of reaction."

"Like riding the subway?"

"Yeah…usually. But today I made an exception."

"Big mistake huh?"

"I suppose so."

The inside of the train grew silent. Marcus picked the cigarette pack up off the floor where it had been dropped during the quake and searched his pockets for a lighter.

Charlie swallowed nervously. _Stay calm. Still breathing… _A thought had occurred to him and the idea sent chills down his spine. He turned to Marcus.

"Those things could kill you, you know."

The young man gave Charlie a disbelieving glare.

"Well, Math Man….We've learned our chances of finding a cigarette when we need to, now what are my chances of dropping dead if I light up another one."

He hesitated under the kid's hostile stare.

"Well, I….It's just…..I know that Los Angeles has numerous underground pockets of methane gas. If that quake compromised the tunnel and allowed any gas to seep in….well………..I think the chances are pretty good that it might kill us all."

Marcus paled, but commendably managed to maintain his tough guy facade. He spat out another retort. "For someone who doesn't usually ride this thing, you sure know a hell of a lot about it."

Charlie shook his head, and continued to stagger his breathing. "I told you……..my father was a city planner. There isn't much about this metro system that I don't know. I just don't ……like to use it."

Marcus was trying to look skeptical, but Charlie could see something flash behind his eyes. He tossed the pack of smokes across the car and conferred with his crew.

"Well then….I guess we get to wait till we get out of here huh? We wouldn't want to blow up the rescue team by accident. Is there anything else we need to know smart guy?"

Charlie eyed the group of young men with caution. _They are just kids….…Yeah, Charlie and these kids probably carry more guns than Don does. _

The thought of his older brother helped to quell the dread that was trying to take over his mind. _Don's waiting at Union Station. He knows where you are. Do you really think he is just going to sit there for hours on end while search and rescue teams are being assembled? If he can make it to you, he will. If Charlie. If. You don't know what it's like on the surface. You don't even know if Don is ok….or Dad….or anybody._

Once again panic tried to seep thru his defenses. Charlie leaned over and put his head between his knees for another round. _Breathing…..ok. Think logically. You are fine. It wasn't a massive quake and you are safe in here. _

"Hey."

Marcus leaned over and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. _Or maybe not._

"Hey! You can't keep doing that shit man. You're freaking my brother out."

Charlie lifted his head and looked into the scared eyes of the young boy sitting next to him. _It's an instinctual reaction to an irrational fear. It's the way my mind works. _

_But you can control it, Charlie. You know you can._

He nodded his head rapidly at the irritated gang leader and sat back up on the bench.

"I'm really ok, just try to ignore me." _Please ignore me._

Another unexpected lurch sent a series of shouts around the subway car. A distant rumble could be picked up as the southern edge of the San Andreas Fault started a minimized repeat of its earlier performance. Charlie lowered himself to the floor, and his actions were quickly imitated by the six younger passengers. Suddenly without warning, the dim lights provided by the emergency battery went out; and absolute darkness filled the car as the earth continued to shift.

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Authors Notes: Thanks again for your comments! Please continue to review!

Chapter Four: Of Empirical Laws and Automatic Weapons


	4. Of Empirical Laws and Automatic Weapons

**Chapter Four: Of Empirical Laws and Automatic Weapons**

Somewhere in the bleak darkness that filled the subway car, Charlie heard someone cough. Somehow he had ended up flat on his stomach with his hands laced over the back of his head. _At least I remembered what they taught us in Kindergarten. _In a moment of elation at still being alive, Charlie almost laughed, but the urge quickly passed. He was still in the tunnel, now it was dark and they had just had their first aftershock.

"Did it collapse?" Two of the others were whispering as if the sound of their voices might make the tunnel come crashing down on their heads.

"I don't think so."

"Frankie? " Marcus's frantic voice filled the gloom.

Charlie reached under the bench behind him and felt around for his backpack. He dug around inside for his keys. A small silver penlight had been hanging from his keychain since Don had left for Quantico. A last minute present for an almost forgotten birthday. The small light suddenly illuminated the cabin and the other passengers looked up at him in shock.

"Sorry, I..um…I guess I should have warned you first."

"No shit."

"You want him to turn it back off?"

The question went unanswered.

"Shine that over here would ya?"

Charlie turned the light toward Marcus. In the dim illumination they found Frankie huddled nearby and just for a minute the light reflected something that could have been fear in Marcus's eyes. Then it was gone again and the gang leader extraordinaire persona was back.

"Well, Math Man, since you're such a smart guy, what do we do now?"

"We've got to get out of here."

Marcus gave him a reproachful look.

"Your not gonna freak out again are you?"

"I…..I really wasn't planning on it."

"Good. I'm not gonna take it very well if you get all freaked out again."

Frankie interceded on his behalf.

"Marcus, what about his head? If we get out of here, will he be able to walk that far?"

"Well?"

Charlie answered his one word inquiry trying to sound less freaked out than he really was.

"I think I can manage that better than just sitting in here. It's just that without the emergency power, there's no airflow in the cars and it might just get a little stuffy. I don't think I can take stuffy, dark _and _enclosed right now."

The other boys seemed hesitant to leave the car.

"But what if there's another earthquake?"

Charlie shook his head.

"There won't be."

"How the hell could you know that? What just happened then?"

"That was a seismic event that qualified as an aftershock."

Marcus learned forward and locked him in a fixed stare.

"Ok. Well, what if there's another aftershock then?"

"No….I mean…..it's not totally impossible, but it is highly improbable."

When no one responded, Charlie continued speaking.

"CalSci, that's where I teach…….they have a Seismological Laboratory, they've studied this for years, and a typical shallow earthquake of a seven point five magnitude has five aftershocks of at least five point five on the Richter Scale. Those aftershocks are evenly distributed from at least an hour to two days after the mainshock. This quake was no where near that powerful…we just jumped the tracks. And since we've already had one aftershock in the first 30 minutes, it's highly unlikely that another would occur before we were able to get clear of the tunnel."

Marcus shook his head to indicate he thought he understood.

"Right then, so we won't have another aftershock?"

"No…I mean…..yes. But they will follow the pattern, so we have a little time before the possibility of another one occurs."

"A pattern?"

With an enthusiastic nod, Charlie tried to explain.

"Yes, a pattern. There are patterns in everything. Aftershocks follow a very specific pattern that can be defined mathematically by using an empirical relation, something called Omori's law. It determines the temporal decay of aftershock rates. The rate of aftershocks is proportional to the inverse of time since the mainshock."

Even while holding tight to his guise and remaining sarcastic, Marcus was trying hard to comprehend what Charlie was saying and seemed to be doing a pretty decent job of it.

"So the longer after the earthquake happens, the less severe the aftershock's gonna be?"

"The frequency and intensity decreases by roughly the reciprocal of time after the mainshock, yes."

"So using your law thing, you can tell us exactly when the next aftershock will happen?"

Charlie leaned his head back and covered his face with his hands.

"No…It's not like that."

He tried not to sound to frustrated as he continued.

"The patterns I'm referring to describe only the mass behavior of aftershocks; the actual times, numbers and locations of the aftershocks are 'random', while tending to follow these patterns."

Frankie tilted his head at him.

"So you're full of crap."

"No."

Leaning forward again, Charlie tried to explain what he meant in terms a middle school kid would understand. "See Frankie, there is random as in irregular and then there is random as in anticipated. Aftershocks are both kinds of random…sort of."

The kid shook his head and offereda confused smile. Giving up on making sense to his audience, Charlie continued his explanation almost to himself now.

"They still follow an expected pattern, but it's unpredictable. Since this is an empirical law, values of the parameters are obtained by fitting to data after the mainshock occurs. So they have no physical basis in reference to the actual quake itself. It's only a pattern that will, to a certain degree, be followed."

Marcus was the only one who didn't look completely confused now.

"So you don't know because the results depend on what actually happens, like an experiment. So by doing the experiment, only then can you see the pattern and….."

Frankie cut off his brother's explanation.

"So you can't predict nothing?"

"I wouldn't say that."

Charlie couldn't hide his shock at Marcus's ability to at least act like he understood what an empirical law was. "But I do know that if there is another aftershock in the next two hours it will be an anomaly that would substantially decrease our likelihood of ever getting out of this tunnel."

Marcus narrowed his eyes at him and pulled himself to his feet.

"Well, Math Man, I only understood about half of whatcha said, and I still think you're full of crap, but you got my vote. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Well, since the windows and doors won't open in this car, we'll have to find a way to break….."  
Before Charlie could finish his sentence, four consecutive explosions filled the small cabin followed by the sound of breaking glass.

He whipped his light around to find Marcus standing in the center of the car.

In his extended right hand a .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol was still smoking.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Marcus turned to face Charlie and brought the gun down to his side.

"What? Bullets break glass."

Feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest; Charlie sat down hard on the nearest bench and put his head between his knees yet again.

The kid with the red shoes rolled his eyes at Marcus.

"Jeez man, you could have at least warned him first."

"Shut up Jose, we can get out now can't we?"

Charlie lifted his head and glared at young man holding the gun.

"Just put that thing away."

"Whatsamatter, Math Man? You don't like guns?"

Charlie scoffed at the question.

"It's really the bullets I have a problem with."

He looked apprehensively at the growing annoyance on the gang leader's face.

"So just…please, put it away."

Jose stepped up to the older boy.

"Marcus, man…Don't freak out the math dude. Put the piece away."

Marcus gave him a contemptuous grin.

"What? You gonna defend this guy cause he knows stuff? He's so smart; we can't remind him who's in charge down here?"

He turned back to the anxious math professor.

"The firepower makes you nervous huh?"

"No. You do."

Charlie's off-hand response stopped the others in their tracks. They turned to their ring leader, expecting him to instigate some sort of retaliation.

"I don't think I like the way you're talking to me. I want you to show me some respect."

Despite his apprehension, and the gun that was still in the kid's hand, Charlie could not contain the frustration he was feeling and he responded honestly to the statement.

"Respect? Why, because you have a gun? I have no reason to respect you, Marcus."

Any indication of humor had vanished from the boy's face as Charlie continued.

"But I can respect the gun…"

Marcus took several steps forward.

"Hey, I am respected on these streets. Me and my gun. Hated, but respected."

He waved the gun in Charlie's face to emphasize his point.

Charlie backed himself against the wall of the car as he instinctually reacted to having a gun pointed at him. His heart jumped into his throat and Charlie recalled the last time someone had pointed a gun in his direction. But he'd had Don there then. Don and a room full of federal agents, each with their own gun. Don had protected him_. Don's not here, Charlie. Are you just going to stand here and get shot?_

His effort to put as much distance between himself and that gun as he possibly could seemed to satisfy Marcus's ego and he gave Charlie a cold smile.

Charlie shook his head.

"This isn't respect Marcus. It's just fear."

Somehow, the idea of allowing this young man to interpret his reaction as reverence made Charlie feel sick to his stomach and he felt his frustration at the absurdity of his situation building.

"And I'm not even that afraid of you. I'm afraid of that gun. Because I know what it can do. The person who holds it doesn't mean anything. That gun would be just as dangerous in the hands of a five year old. And I'd be just as afraid of it as I am right now."

Marcus advanced across the car, keeping the gun leveled sideways at Charlie.

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

Surprised by his own reaction to having a gun shoved in his face, Charlie found his fear was being drowned by an unexpected anger. He took two steps away from the wall and actually moved closer to the gun.

"Yes, Marcus. OK. I'm trying to piss you off. Today when I got out of bed, I thought what the hell, let's get trapped underground with some bad ass and see if you can manage to piss him off………"

Charlie took a deep breath and tried to contain his outburst. He put his hands on the sides of his head, giving the other passengers an exasperated glare. "I have had a very, very bad day as I am sure you may have noticed since you have become an intricate part of it. So if you are planning on further complicating my moderately problematical existence by shooting me, just do it so I can get on with dying already."

Marcus continued to stare at him without speaking, and without lowering his gun.

With an anxious glance at his older brother, and the panicky mathematics professor, Frankie spoke up.

"Are you gonna freak out again?"

Charlie's knees were shaking, but he remained standing and refused to take his eyes off the gun or the young man who held it.

"No Frankie. I am not freaking out. I am perfectly calm. But your brother is pointing a gun at me. I've been shot at a couple of times in the past and it is really not on my list of things to do again. It's late, it really has been a very long day, I've developed a headache and I have a lecture in the morning. The door can be opened now and I would like to go home so I can go to bed."

Directing his unsteady voice back at Marcus, Charlie continued.

"So, if it's ok with everybody, I'd like to use the exit you so graciously gave us and get out of here."

After a few moments of silence Marcus lifted his gun and made a dramatic show of sticking it back into the waist band of his pants.

"Well, if the Math Man says it time to go, by all means, let's get moving."

1

1

Authors Notes: Thanks again for all of your comments. To directly answer a question, (and in case anyone else is wondering) Don doesn't play a big part in this section of the story. It's all about Charlie's little misadventure. Don is inthe last two chapters, and he is also a very central character inpart two, so never fear. Brother Angst is just around the corner.

**Chapter Five: Just a casual stroll down a long dark tunnel.**


	5. Just a casual stroll

**Chapter Five: Just a casual stroll down a long dark tunnel**

Charlie watched as Jose, Frankie and the other boys cleared the remainder of the glass from the door frame. Marcus leaned against the wall, never taking his eyes off the older man. The gun remained out of sight……though hardly out of Charlie's mind. He was trying to control the tremors that had crept up on him after the rush from his confrontation with Marcus had passed, but with little luck. The young man continued to glare at him and it was starting to make Charlie more nervous than he already was.

The silent staring contest between them was interrupted when Frankie stepped in front of his brother. "Can we go now, Marcus…..please?"

"Yeah kid…we're right behind you."

Frankie had his back to Charlie, but a silent exchange between the two brothers brought his nerves back on high alert. Then Marcus spoke again.

"I said, we'd be right behind you….go on."

With an almost forlorn look in Charlie's direction the boy turned and followed the others, sliding thru the door frame and into the dark tunnel. Charlie turned to face Marcus, unsure of what to expect from the wayward teen.

"Wha'd you mean you've been shot at a couple of times? I thought you were a math professor."

Charlie was startled by the inquiry. From the look on Frankie's face, he had half expected to be shot and left to die on the subway car. This question was why Marcus had been trying to stare a hole thru him?

"You said you were a math teacher right? But you were nowhere near scared enough when I pulled out my piece. You were startled, but not flat out scared. I mean, I've seen people piss their pants when I bring that gun out. But not you……not a timid little math professor. So I wanna know. How is it that a guy who sits in a class room all day can be used to looking down the barrel of a gun?"

Charlie swallowed his shock and answered the question cautiously.

"I'm not used to it. And for the record math isn't just sitting in a class room all day. But I've seen a gun before, Marcus. And I have had one fired in my direction on two occasions. Frankie isn't the only kid who's big brother totes a gun around."

"So when you were shot at, was it was because of your brother?"

Charlie wasn't sure where Marcus was going with this. _Proceed with caution Eppes. Maybe telling this kid that your older brother happens to be a FED and you work for him from time to time might not be a smart move. _

"No…not really because of him…..but because….because I was around him."

"Do you still hang?"

"With my brother?"

Marcus nodded his head.

"Yeah. All the time."

"Even though he almost got you killed?"

Charlie looked at the earnest, troubled expression from the young man who only moments before had seemed prepared to shoot him in the face.

"He didn't almost get me killed. It wasn't his fault. Some……person with a gun decided I'd be good target practice. The other time I was just………..in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But it was because you were with your brother?"

The young man still looked deeply concerned as to what Charlie's answer would be.

Shaking his head, Charlie decided that statement was true enough. If he hadn't been working a case with Don, both times, he wouldn't have been in the position to get shot at.

"Yeah, I guess it was. Can we get out of this car now?"

Marcus looked somewhat crestfallen by his answer, but he shrugged his shoulders, and with a smirk he stepped aside to let Charlie pass thru the door.

As the young man followed him thru the frame and stepped over the broken glass, he continued to speak.

"I've been shot at ten times. Have you ever been hit?"

Charlie pulled his backpack up over his shoulder and stared at the young man.

"No. I have never been hit. Your plans for the future may include getting shot at, but it really isn't on my agenda."

Marcus headed down the side of the tracks, toward the front of the de-railed Metro car.

Charlie expected any conversation from the previously hostile teenager to end at this point, but Marcus turned his head to look at him again.

"I was hit four of those times."

"And you are proud of that? I've been shot AT and I try to avoid sharing that information whenever possible."

Charlie lifted his penlight up and he could see the other boys in the shadows a few feet up the tunnel. He turned the light back to Marcus. _Keep it friendly Eppes. Don't upset the delinquent now._

"Where were you hit?"

"Twice in my right arm, once in the chest and in my left thigh."

"I guess it was close huh?"

"Yeah, it was close."

"Aren't you afraid of dying?"

Charlie watched as the gang leader gave him a quizzical look, without bothering to hide his distain at what he clearly regarded as a stupid question. _Way to go Eppes. Your supposed to be a genius. _

"I just mean that each time you get shot at, your odds of actually being hit increases. Having been hit, and surviving four out of ten assaults with a firearm, statistically your chances of surviving another gun shot wound are unlikely."

Marcus expelled an exaggerated sigh.

"Everybody dies, Math Man. You could get hit by a car on the way home from a class. You could just drop dead from a blood clot or something. You could get shot by accident……You could have gotten shot tonight. You still could."

The young man's words reinstated the fear and anger that Charlie had been fighting to control. He came to a stumbling halt and turned to face his unsolicited escort.

"Can't you just be civil? Now you feel the need to threaten me again?"

"Not a threat, man. I'm just saying. The night's young. You did, after all end up taking the Metro Rail on a night that we happened to be taking the Metro Rail. There also happened to be an earthquake. So maybe it's just fate."

Charlie turned away from the younger man and started down the tunnel again.

"The probability of my being on this subway train on this night, of all nights, is so minuscule that it's almost incalculable. This was just bad luck and an occurrence that has no possibility of ever being repeated. Even though my odds of being around guns and therefore, around gunfire are better than an average professor of mathematics, due to my brother and his...well, what it is that he does, I have a better chance of winning the lottery 100 times in a row than I do of being killed in a gang related shooting."

Looking up he saw the other boys had stopped to wait for them.

Frankie's voice echoed down the tunnel.

"Oh man, he's going all odds and averages again….."

Marcus trotted up behind him and shot him a serious look.

"So you're saying that you have a better chance of sleeping with J-Lo that I do of surviving my 18th birthday."

"How old are you?"

Frankie interjected.

"He's seventeen."

Charlie ran the numbers in his head and nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, that seems to fit the odds you presented."

Jose turned and gave him a questioning glance.

"So you can prove mathematically, like you did with the cigarettes and the aftershock thing, that I'm going to die before I turn 18?"

"No. I can't prove it with certainty, but the likelihood of such an occurrence is phenomenal."

Marcus stopped in the darkness and grabbed Charlie's arm, making him drop his backpack.

"Prove it."

"Marcus. Let's just go. We're almost there."

Frankie sounded nervous and Charlie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up again.

"I'm not gonna hurt him, Frankie. I just want him to prove it."

_Way to rival up the deviant Charlie. Almost home and you somehow manage to upset the insecure guy with the gun._

The young man turned to Charlie.

"So, come on, Math Man. Use your numbers and convince me that I'm going to take a bullet in the next six months."

"It…it's pretty complicated. I…um….I'm not sure I can explain it so that you would understand."

Marcus smiled at him in the dark, and in the dim illumination from the penlight, it only made him look more dangerous.

"Try me."

Charlie ran over the fifteen different lesson plans he had accumulated over the years. Somehow none of them seemed appropriate for a custom built algorithm intended to predict the life expectancy of the six young men who stood before him.

_Just lay it out there Charlie. Maybe he won't shoot you for it, assuming he can even understand what you're talking about._

"It's called probability theory. By assigning a numerical value to an event…event A…say that's you getting shot. The occurrence or failure of event A to transpire is random. The probability that the event occurs given the known occurrence of a second event, event B…..you actually having beenshot at, is the conditional probability of A given B."

Pausing, Charlie took in his audience. Marcus was watching him intently, Frankie on the other hand look extremely worried, while the other boys looked like he had lost them already. When no one spoke, he continued with his explanation.

"If this restrictive probability of A given B is the same as the unconditional probability of A, then A and B are said to be independent events and the relation between A and B is symmetric."

Marcus broke in with a question.

"But doesn't independent mean they are not related at all?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows at the young man. _Asking questions huh? What is up with this guy?_

"To a certain degree, yes. In probability theory, to say that two events are independent, means that the occurrence of one event makes it neither more nor less likely that the other occurs. For example, the event of you being shot at ten times and the possible event of you getting shot at ten more times are independent. The fact that you have already been shot at ten times is not the reason why you will or will not be shot at ten more times. This is were the random variable comes in."

Jose made a mocking face at the other boys.

"Here he goes with that 'random' word again."

Charlie stopped talking, but a nod from Marcus promoted him to go on.

"Well, we increase the accuracy of a probability equation by the inclusion of a 'random' variable. That variable maps statistical events to numbers and allows us to include those known occurrences as measures in the equation."

Frankie picked up Charlie's worn backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He started up at the mathematician, a look of awe plastered across his young face.

"So you really _can _prove it?"

"No. It's not proof. It's likelihood. This equation does not, and cannot describe the actual outcome of any given event, but rather describes the possible, as-yet-undetermined outcomes in terms of real numbers."

One of the other boys stepped into the dim light from Charlie's keychain pen.

"So what are our numbers then?"

Charlie went over the figures in his head and looked at the group of boys.

"You don't really want to know."

Marcus laughed and with a disparaging expression, crossed his arms and glared at Charlie.

"Come on now, Math Man. You might as well finish it. We all know what happens to gang bangers in L.A. Why don't you go ahead and give us a numerical value."

With a glance around the circle, Charlie recalled all the of the knowledge he had accumulated about gangs and gang related shooting. It wasn't quite a year ago that he had assisted Don and the LAPD with a string of gang related shootings and the numbers were still as fresh in his mind as if it had been yesterday.

"Ok, here are a few known random variables we can use. I know there have been over 8,000 gang related shootings in LA over the past four years. We know that at least 2,000 of those have be fatal. Of this group of gun violence fatalities, thirty five percent have been kids. Kids your age Frankie, well under the age of sixteen."

Marcus took a step towards Charlie.

"So your saying his chances of catching a bullet are better than mine?"

The numbers flew thru Charlie's head but he hesitated before giving an answer.

"WELL, are they?"

"Yes...and no. Most of those young kids are just caught in the cross fire. In the wrong place at the wrong time. But because most of his time is spent with you and due to your high probability of being shot at, his chances of actually being hit are almost equal to yours."

Marcus looked shocked. "And that's pretty high right?"

"Yeah Marcus. That's pretty high…..in mathematical terms. You have a better chance of getting shot when you walk down the street than you did in finding a pack of cigarettes on an almost deserted subway train tonight."

He paused and watched as full comprehension of his words sunk into the six young faces in front of him.

"Do you want me to give you an actual percentage?"

Frankie looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Can you?"

"Yes."

"No."

Marcus's objection rang thru the dark tunnel.

"No. You can shut up now. Let's get out of here."

As the trek down the tracks continued, the whole group seemed subdued as if Charlie had just handed them their death sentence. They walked in silence for several minutes before anyone spoke.

Jose broke the silence as a dim light from the Union Station platform appeared around the corner.

"Well, it's been fun, math dude, but we've gotta split. I don't think hanging out around here is a good plan. The fuzz will be everywhere. I don't exactly need to get rescued by the law just now."

Marcus grabbed Frankie's shoulder.

"You guys go ahead, Jose. We'll be right behind you."

With a mild grin, he tipped a non-existent hat at Charlie and the boy in the red basketball shoes sprinted up to the platform. The other boys followed close behind him, leaving Charlie alone with the two brothers.

Standing behind his younger brother, Marcus gave Charlie a brazen look.

"Well. I guess this is the end of the line, Math Man."

Charlie swallowed hard and considered his options of yelling for help. But surely the station had been evacuated until it's stability could be evaluated.

The sound of the young man's laughter alleviated his sudden surge of panic. There was nothing sinister about it. He almost sounded friendly.

"I'm sort of glad I didn't shoot you down there. I guess I would have felt pretty stupid about shooting you, if you turn out to be right about anything else."

Marcus pulled himself up onto the platform and Charlie watched as he turned and pulled his younger brother up beside him.

"Hey Marcus…..I don't have to be right. Probability doesn't equal certainty."

The young man gave him a fleeting look.

"You might want to get that head looked at, Math Man."

Pulling himself off of the tracks, Charlie watched as the two boys disappeared up the dark and empty steps of Union Station.

Standing in solitude on the platform of the Metro Rail station, Charlie had never been quite so happy to just be alone. Looking at his watch, he realized only an hour had passed since the initial earthquake that had derailed the subway car. _Only an hour._

_You should call Don, they probably made him stay outside_. Charlie reached for his phone only to find that it was not in his pocket. Only when he remembered putting his phone back in his bag did he recall the image of Frankie trotting up the staircase after his brother…with Charlie's backpack still on his shoulders.

"Well damn."

Holding the bloody bandanna to the side of his head, the tired mathematician walked over to the staircase. With a deep sigh, he grabbed the rail and started the long climb to the streets of L.A.

**Authors Notes:** Reading your reviews has become the highlight of my day! Please continue to give me your feedback. I like to know what you are thinking!

Don is in the next Chapter! (Part II is in the works, so don't think this is over! We will see these boys again!I'm dying to say more, but I don't want to spoil it and you can never tell when I'll up and change my mind about a plot point. So I'd better shut up now.)

Next Chapter: What a day it has been


	6. What a day it has been

**Chapter Six: What a day it has been**

"If your team's not ready to head down that tunnel in five minutes, I'm going in without them."

Special Agent Don Eppes stood on the well lit street outside of Union Station. His badge was on display, as was his holstered sidearm. And with his jacket off and the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled all the way up, he looked the part of an intimidating federal agent. But even more menacing was the intensity radiating from his eyes that had nothing to do with his job. His little brother had been trapped in that metro tunnel for a little more than an hour. His extremely claustrophobic little brother, who should never have gotten on the damn thing in the first place.

"Agent Eppes, you need to wait until we…."

He towered over the tiny woman who served as rescue coordinator for the L.A. County Metropolitan Transportation Authority's safety and maintenance team.  
"Lady, I've been waiting. First I waited for you to get your team here. Then I waited for you to get your team ready. Then I waited while your team decided to get some coffee. Then I waited while we had an aftershock……."

"Agent Eppes, We still have to wait until we can get someone here to evaluate the tunnel. We need confirmation as to the magnitude of the quake and the aftershock and they need to assess the stability of the structure before we can send a rescue team in after the passengers."

"I don't care!"

"Agent Eppes, I understand that one of those passengers is your brother and I know you are concerned, but………."

"Concerned? There are no existing adjectives that can adequately describe what I am right now!"

Agent Megan Reeves rounded the corner and spotted her boss.

"Don? I got here as fast as I could. Have you got him yet?"

"We are waiting….again. It seems my brother's safety is of little priory right now. We wouldn't want to put a well paid, well equipped rescue team at risk."

She turned to the MTA coordinator and introduced herself. "Agent Reeves, FBI. The fact that Charles Eppes is this man's brother is of little consequence right now. He works for the NSA and getting him safely out of that tunnel is a matter of national security."

Don looked at her with his eyes wide and a half a smile on his face. She shrugged her shoulders. Let this woman try to call that bluff….well it wasn't really a bluff. He had worked for the NSA a couple of times.

"Agent Reeves, please. We fully appreciate the importance…….."

Megan interpreted her.

"No, I don't think you do. I'm not asking you to risk the lives of your men. I'm asking you nicely to get out of our way."

The petite woman looked up at the two federal agents looming over her.

"It's not safe for them and it's not safe for you. This is my call agent."

"And if something happens to us, you will not be held responsible."

Megan stood with her hands on her hips and stared at the shorter woman.

Finally, the woman caved to their tactics. "Ok…but for God's sake, wear a helmet."

Don offered the women a brief, insincere smile and broke into a trot as he headed for the front doors of Union Station. Weaving between the numerous emergency vehicles that were parked around the entrance, he slowed down enough to pluck a helmet from the hands of a rescue team member who was loitering on the sidewalk waiting for instructions. Don was about halfway to the entrance when he heard Megan behind him.

"Don. DON!"

He stopped and turned to look at Megan. She was standing near a grouping of red trucks with the letters L.A.F.D. emblazoned on their sides. She caught Don's eye and nodded toward the back of one of the trucks. A uniformed EMT was kneeling next to the wide rear bumper of a fire-truck, where a familiar looking head of curly black hair was bowed in silent contemplation.

With another glance at Megan, Don changed his direction and headed full speed for the truck.

"Charlie?"

The younger Eppes lifted his head and looked slightly mystified by the sudden appearance of his older brother. At the sight of the trail of dried blood that was crusted on Charlie's face, Don narrowed his eyes.

"Hey Buddy. You ok?"

A smile played itself across his younger brother's features, but he didn't immediately respond to the question.

"Charlie?"

Don knelt down next to him and brushed a clump of hair back that had been plastered to his face with drying blood. He winced at the size of the seeping gash on Charlie's left temple.

"God, Charlie. What the hell happened down there?"

"We…..um…the train jumped the rail. I….I just hit my head."

"On what?"

"Oh, a few things I think…but I'm ok."

Don wrinkled his forehead in concern and looked at the EMT for confirmation. "IS HE?"

"He took a pretty nasty knock on the head. Is this man in some sort of trouble?"

For a moment Don was perplexed by the question. Megan thumped his badge that was hanging out of his shirt pocket.

"Not unless being this guys brother qualifies as trouble."

Charlie's eyes shifted to Megan and he smiled.

"Agent Reeves. Why are you here?"

"It's good to see you too Charlie. Looks like you've had a rough night."

Charlie nodded his head slowly. "Yeah."

The EMT stood to walk away. "It looks like he may have a concussion and he may need a few stitches to close that up, but I think he'll live. I'll get the ambulance over here."

Charlie pulled himself quickly to his feet.

"I don't need an ambulance."

The sudden rush of oxygen to his brain made him lightheaded, and as if to refute his own statement, Charlie paled and staggered.

Don grabbed his brother around the shoulders.

"Whoa….Ok…..take it easy there Buddy."

"I'm ok Don. Really….I have a lecture in the morning...I don't……..."

"Hey…...I'm sure the confrence will be rescheduled, Charlie. Everything gets rescheduled after an earthquake around here."

Charlie shook his head at his brother.

"But, I don't need..."

"We'll take you. You don't have to ride in the ambulance."

Don glanced at the EMT, who nodded, raised his hands in mock surrender and walked around the truck, leaving his patient in the hands of the two federal agents.

Holding tightly to his younger brother's arm, Don led him across the parking lot towards the familiar black SUV with government plates.

"They told me the power shut down on those things when there was an earthquake to keep people on the train and off of the tracks. How'd you get out of there?"

For a minute Charlie looked hesitantly at his older brother. Then he let a guilty smirk spread across his face.

"I told you…we derailed. And….they decided I needed to get out of the car……so……um….we….broke the glass in the door. I'm a little claustrophobic you know."

Charlie felt himself smile as he watched his brothers baffled expression at his humorous attitude toward his phobia.

"Why Don? You don't think they'll try to charge me for that do you?"

Don face broke into a wide grin.

"Just let them try."

Megan opened the back door of the truck and Don deposited Charlie in the backseat.

"We?"

Again a hesitant expression clouded the young mans face.

"I didn't see anyone else around. Who was on there with you Charlie?"

"Just a couple of kids. They didn't wait around."

Charlie glanced around the street at the grouping of parked emergency vehicles and scattered men in uniform and he looked up at his brother, quickly changing the subject.

"Hey….how bad was this thing?"

"Not bad Charlie. Just a little quake….maybe a four or a five at the most. Nothing seems to be badly damaged."

"Dad ok?"

"Oh…..OH. Crap. Charlie, I haven't even called him yet. Do you have your phone?"

"Um. No. I…"

_Maybe Don doesn't really need to know everything. That would be just the thing. Send Don out hunting a bunch of gun toting teenagers. Everything is fine. You're just minus a backpack, cell phone, …………laptop. Crap._

Charlie expelled a deep sigh.

"I think I lost it. My backpack too."

Don shook his head and tossed his younger brother his cell phone. "Use mine. I'm sure you're the one Dad'll want to talk to right now."

Charlie glanced back up at the entrance to Union Station. With the exception of the flashing lights reflected in the large plate glass windows, everything looked as it always had. But he was pretty damn sure he's never step foot in the place again.

Don turned to look at him. "Megan's going to go pick up Dad. Fasten your seat belt. I'm gonna light 'em up."

"I'm glad I've given you an excuse to run your lights, Don."

Charlie buckled himself in and hit speed dial on Don's phone, as his brother pushed the button to start up the emergency lights that flashed across the front and back of the black SUV.

"Hey, Dad."

"Yeah, I'm with Don."

"We're fine, Dad.Just a little shaken up, that's all."

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Authors Notes: Ok, now don't lay into me for this - but there is only one Chapter left of this one...but there is a part II in the works.

Keep talking to me here! I still wanna, needa, gotta have your opinions and ideas. Final Chapter: Good Morning, Sunshine


	7. Good Morning, Sunshine

**Chapter Seven: Good Morning, Sunshine**

Alan Eppes stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee and watched his two sons in silence. Charlie was propped up in the old brown recliner, his unruly mop of curls spread out over the small throw-pillow that was being using to keep his head from lolling onto his shoulder. His older brother Don was stretched out, full length, on the couch with his feet sticking out over the arm rest, both hands laced behind his head. They were both snoring.

The TV was on and the mid-morning news cycle had started. Two earthquake experts from CalSci were the guests and they were droning on about the possibility of yet another aftershock.

The first aftershock of the day had jarred Alan from bed about eight thirty. His attempt to go back to sleep was foiled when the phone rang a few minutes later. It had been Larry calling to make sure Charlie had made it home ok. It seemed the eccentric physicist had slept thru the events of last night and didn't know anything about the earthquake until the aftershock prompted him to turn on his TV this morning. Alan had been afraid the ringing phone would wake the two men sleeping in the living room. He could see now he had had nothing to worry about.

Walking around the couch, Alan took a seat in the small armchair on the other side of the room. Charlie moaned in his sleep and twisted himself onto his side. Alan could see the white bandage that covered the left side of his youngest son's forehead. Of all the nights for Charlie to decide he needed to try riding the subway.

"What time is it?"

Don yawned and squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight that was shining in through the open curtains.

"It's about ten thirty. The news just came on."

"I turned it on the last time I woke Charlie up…but I dozed back off. What did I miss?"

"Not much. It seems we had an earthquake last night."

"Yeah….I may have already known about that."

Don slung his legs onto the floor and pulled himself into sitting position. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his younger brother.

"Still out huh?"

Alan sipped his coffee.

"When did you wake him last?"

"About three hours ago."

"The doctor said every two hours, Donnie. Concussions are tricky things."

"I didn't mean to fall back to sleep, Dad."

Alan sat his mug on the coffee table.

"I'll wake him up."

Don gave his father a sincere smile.

"Would you? He hit me with his pillow last time."

"You should have ducked."

"Would you two keep it down? How's a guy supposed to get any sleep around here?"

Don watched as Charlie peeled his eyes open and made a disgusted face at the open curtains. "And why is it so bright?"

"And good morning to you too, Chuck."

Charlie sneered at his brother's use of the hated nickname.

"Donald….my dear brother…..Although I appreciate having you around, if you ever spend another night waking me up every two hours, I will grow to hate you."

"I won't take that personally. The doctor did say that concussions can cause uncharacteristic hostility and abnormal behavior."

Stretching his legs out, Don continued to work on the kink in his neck.

Charlie got his eyes open all the way and spotted his father's ceramic mug.

"Please tell me that's coffee?"

Alan pulled himself to his feet. "I'll get it. You sit. Doctor's orders."

Charlie watched his father exit into the kitchen.  
"He didn't sit there all night did he?"

Don shook his head. "No. He went to bed when you fell asleep, after he made me swear I would wake you up every two hours just like the doctor ordered."

A reluctant smile floated across Charlie's face.

"Well, I guess that was better than spending the night in the hospital."

"I'll say. I never could sleep in their little chairs."

A comfortable silence filled the room. Charlie looked reverently at his older brother, knowing full well that Don would have spent the night in one of those uncomfortable little hospital chairs if they had decided to keep him for observation.

Last night, Don's reaction to what he knew of the ordeal on the subway had surprised Charlie. By the time he got through telling him about the actual derailment and his subsequent panic attack, Don had looked ready to have a panic attack of his own. Charlie had failed to mention that the other passengers might have been gang members and decided to avoid admitting that they had gotten him out of the metro car by shooting out the glass doorswith a handgun, that had then been shoved in his face while the gang leader had a bout of insecurity. Now he was really glad he had left them out of the story. When Megan arrived at the hospital with their Father, he even told her to inform Director Merrick that he had a family emergency and would not be coming in today. This was so unlike his brother, that Charlie almost asked the doctor to take a look at his head instead. Don had been so openly concerned. He was usually intensely guarded when it came to things like that.

Charlie grinned.

"What? What's so funny?"

Don was giving him an inquisitive look.

"Nothing…I'm just…..glad….I mean. Thanks for sticking around."

When Alan walked back in with two more cups of coffee, his sons were again sitting in silence. Handing each of them a mug, he sat back down in the arm chair.

"What did I miss?"

Don glanced at his father and shot Charlie an indistinct smile.

"Not a thing, Dad. Charlie was just thinking now might be a good time to try flying."

Don laughed at the expression of horror on his brothers face and almost spilled his coffee when a well aimed throw-pillow slammed into the side of his head.

**THE END**

Authors Notes: It will be a few weeks until I am able to start postingPart II. But here is a preview.

SEQUEL IN THE WORKS: **No Common Allegiance: Death in the Key of G**

Lt. Walker of the LAPD finds Charlie's backpack. Marcus shows up with that gun again.

AND - Charlie finds out just how right his probability figures were and inadvertently becomes a statistic himself.

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